


One Card

by ventaricalburn



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Card Games, Crimes & Criminals, Gay Character, Gods, Half-Elves, Humans, M/M, Murder, Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:01:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28556538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventaricalburn/pseuds/ventaricalburn
Summary: A half elf mafia family, queer love, murder and mutilation, and a touch of poker, what's not to love?
Relationships: OC/OC





	One Card

Elise and Tyrill Van Horrin were the matriarch and patriarch of an underground empire. Fearless, daunting figures, the family of seven loomed heavy in the shadows. Young criminals learned quickly to stay on their good side, otherwise they'd end up with a puncture in the heart, or something even uglier. The Van Horrin family had a reputation to uphold. They were thieves, and thick as thieves at that. A powerhouse of talented criminals, Keir was the oldest of five, two little sisters and two little brothers. And ever since Grimford took the family business, and, well, ran wild with it, someone had to actively hold up the family ideals.   
Of course, it was the eldest son. The one who drove a slim rapier into chests, and melted back into the darkness. Keir Van Horrin had been running hits for years, and helped keep the family coffers full with contract killings. An occasional thievery was sprinkled in, but Lainey Van Horrin, the eldest sister took better to thievery. Occasionally, they'd run together. Two professional criminals is better than one in some situations. But, Keir usually ran alone. For reasons he didn't share, and didn't have to. He was simply good enough as a solo operation.   
Of course, that wasn't the only reason. There's never only one reason truly.   
The second reason was named Eli. 

Eli was not a thief, nor a criminal exactly. Eli was a noble with too much time on his hands, and they'd met at a game of cards. Keir liked to play cards, he was decent at it too. When he didn't have work, he'd often fashion a simple disguise for the night and find somewhere to play. The evening they met, Keir had traded his pitch black hair for a light brown, with a smattering of freckles across his face, and his striking blue eyes seemed more brown than usual. He'd spotted the game, pulled up an empty seat, and told the dealer to deal him in. He didn't introduce himself to the gaggle of local merchants and nobles, who assumed little of him.   
That night was good, he swept. It was an honest game, Keir may be a criminal, but he didn't need to cheat at cards to prove something. He roamed out of the inn with heavier pockets and few complaints, until there was a tap on his shoulder.   
"You're good."   
Keir turned to face them, anyone trying to kill him wouldn't start a conversation. It was one of the nobles, a younger one. Tall, dark, handsome. Crooked smile, and a telltale, yet miniscule, twitch of his left pinky when he had a good hand.   
"I am."   
"I didn't expect to be cleaned out by a traveler, what did you say your name was?" The end of his sentence slurred a touch, he had had a few drinks.   
"I didn't."   
"Well, I'm Eli handsome." He stuck out a smooth hand. "Charmed."   
Keir didn't respond, or take his hand. Eli shrugged, and pulled away.   
"I get it, quiet and brooding. Unfortunately my type. Well, anyone who can kick my ass is my type, cards, swords. Literal kicking." He smiled, dimples creasing in his cheeks.   
"Mmhm." Keir stood unmoving, perplexed by the man.   
"You're pretty, I'm sober enough, we doing this?"   
Keir was certainly not doing this right now.   
"When you beat me at cards."   
It was a safe enough bet, a joke if Keir was being generous. He didn't expect anything of a slightly tipsy man in silk brocade. But, to Keir's surprise, the noble sat down in the dirt, and pulled out a deck.  
"Deal." And he smiled again.   
Keir Van Horrin lives by deals. That's how the underground works, a deal is a deal. Ledgers are incriminating, not everything can be on paper. Words and a monetary transaction are enough. Sometimes just words.   
To ignore this promise was to put aside what resembled Keir's moral code.  
So he kept it.   
They played late into the night, on a dirt road. Keir won every round. As dawn began to break, the other man yawned, and began to pack up his cards.   
"Meet you at the inn tonight?" The gold foil on the edges of the cards caught in the light.   
"You're serious?"  
"As serious as I can be."   
"I have business elsewhere." He did, contracts to fill and such.  
"Meet me at the inn some other time then, I'm there just about every evening." Eli pulled a card from the deck, and offered it to Keir. "A calling card for you."   
Keir, to his own surprise, took it.   
Even more surprising was that he did return to the inn a week later, and he continued to do so, for months.   
"How are you so damn good at this?" Eli had asked, around five months into their strange arrangement.   
"Practice." Keir flicked a card face up, and laid his hand out, a winning one of course. Eli rubbed his temples in annoyance. "And attention to detail."   
Eli put his hand on the table in defeat, and began to shuffle the deck.   
"My poor cards have never suffered so." Eli mourned.   
"Practice." Keir reiterated, and took a drink of mead.  
"What do you think I do all day? Sit around a look pretty? I sit pretty and attempt to get better at this cursed game." Eli cast another dimpled smile.   
"Why are you so determined to beat me?"   
"That's the longest sentence I've ever heard you speak. I'm determined to beat you because I like you."  
"You don't know me."   
"I'd like to. I figure if I talk enough I'll wear you down eventually."   
Bards. Keir sighed, and stood up.   
"Business to attend to?" Eli stopped shuffling. Keir nodded. "You ever going to tell me what your business is, K?" He'd only given Eli his first initial, so he'd stop calling him handsome.   
"No."  
"Or your name?"   
"No."  
"See you sometime next week then." Eli slid the cards back into their sleeve as Keir slunk out of the inn.   
That week was a long job, traveling, planning, he didn't make it to play that week.   
But, two weeks later, Eli was still waiting, and full of questions about what had taken him so long. 

A lot had taken him so long. He'd traveled to a city called Wellset, he'd been before. Notoriously dangerous city, with the underground slowly creeping their way into power. Last time, the underground had just reared its head. Now it was in full swing. The ruling party, a man named Duke Eban had been trying to keep the city in order. He'd succeeded in driving them back a step, but they'd easily recovered.   
They'd certainly recovered enough to fund a Van Horrin.   
The address given, and promptly memorized was 128 Bend. It was a normal looking house, nothing amiss. The client would leave the back window on the second floor open for five minutes on the date given. Keir climbed in easily, the streets were empty. Locals had taken notice, the streets weren't safe at night. Maneuvering the city unseen was child's play.   
There was a single candle lit in the room, and the door was left open. Keir moved through the halls, to a main room, with three people sat around the table. None of their faces were fully visible, same as his.  
"What is the music of life?" One figure asked in cant.   
"Silence." Keir responded in cant.   
"Welcome then. Glad you could join us, Van Horrin." Another figure spoke.   
"The job?"  
"Requires a special touch. The ruling party hasn't yielded to us, even in public display. He's a stubborn prideful fuck, and his arrogance is no longer useful."   
"An assassination then?"  
"And a little extra. We want him to be made an example."  
"How?"   
"People call you an artist with that blade of yours. How well do you draw?"  
"Well enough."  
The third and final figure unfolded a thick piece of parchment, and slid it across the table. It was an ink drawing of a black hand.   
"Carve that on his chest, leave him as bloody as you can." A glint of a depraved smile could be seen in the faint light. "Cut out his eyes, his tongue. Spare no expense."   
It was a hand of Bane. Keir gazed at the paper, memorizing the figure.   
"Done." Keir murmured.   
The three figures grinned.   
"Return to the window within the week, the rest of your expenses will be waiting."   
Keir slunk out of the room, and back onto the streets.   
He began to plan. The Duke's residence was perhaps the safest place in the city. Most of the guards were stationed around it, though there would be more within. No plans existed of the residence either. Well enough, the Van Horrins had a reputation for a reason.   
Keir had no great charm to coax his way in, so he searched for weak points. Gaps in the wall, rusted windows, a sewer, a loose tile on the rooftop. The structure of the home was solid, tightly built stone. Perhaps Dwarven construction. No wonder the underground here was outsourcing. To enter and exit without making a scene was a difficult task. Of course, no structure is without its flaws. The flaw in this structure was a high window, unbarred and unguarded, into a bathing room. It was on a simple hinge, and opened from the inside. There was a large enough gap between the frame and the glass to unlatch the window with a little skill. A long lockpick should do. The window was hidden behind a garden terrace from most angles, and the guard were more preoccupied with other doors and windows.   
So Keir slipped the lockpick into the gap, and opened the latch. Clad in all black, quiet as the dead, in the cover of the night, he dropped to the floor. The only door out led to a bedroom. Now, to avoid the interior guard, the staff, and find the Duke. There were rooms upon rooms, closets, studies, a home large enough for a family. No matter, the Duke was found in a study of his own. There was nobody in the neighboring rooms, and a guard was stationed at the far end of the hall.   
The mad had his back turned, a mistake he wouldn't live to regret. A single stab to the chest, and Keir caught the man before he could clatter to the floor. Silent, swift. The Duke made the same mistake, his back turned.   
Usually, when they wanted torture, they asked for the man to be left alive to bear it. Such a demand was never made, so a quick stab it was. The man bled onto his books.  
Keir draped the body across the desk.   
He carved a black palm into the man's chest, his palms, his forehead.   
He cut out his tongue.   
A small dagger dug out his eyes.   
Keir never gagged, never flinched, never lost focus on his task.   
Blood dripped onto the floor, collecting in puddles.  
Pity on the person who found him in the morning.   
Keir left the way he came. Not a sound, not a trace of his presence left in the house. He latched the window shut, and made his way to a canal nearby. Off came his boots and gloves, and they were set adrift.   
The man slunk back to 128 Bend.   
He collected his reward, a small satchel.  
A pair of common robes and boots were left folded in the room. He took them, draping them over his armor.   
Wellset would never know he was there. 

It took Eli about a year to beat him.   
He placed a gold foil card face up on the table, and his hazel eyes grew wide.  
"I, win?"   
He laid his hand on the table. Flush. Keir was quiet for a moment.   
"You win."  
Eli jumped out of his chair, which promptly fell to the ground, causing the barkeep to glance over, then roll his eyes.   
"Finally! I have defeated my arch nemesis at his dastardly game!"   
"This was your idea." Keir reminded him.   
"It was a great idea I'd argue. Can we do this now?"  
"Do what?"   
"Can I finally, for the love of all things good, kiss you?"   
Keir looked at Eli like he was a touch mad.   
"Do you really want to do that?"   
"Well, let's see. I've had a year of queer pining to consider wether or not I'd really like to. I'd really like to. Would you?"   
Keir wasn't someone for romantic notions of any kind. Work had always come first, then family. He'd figured Eli's intention of romance would die out after a year. The man didn't even know what he really looked like. But, their deal was done if Keir said yes.  
So he did.  
"Yes."   
Of course, Keir continued to be surprised by himself. Because he liked kissing Eli, and he kept kissing him. He kept visiting the noble, long after their initial game of cards.   
Keir never told anyone about the nobleman, coming from a criminal family has its advantages. Nobody asked questions.   
So Keir worked alone, and continued to do so.   
Eli didn't know what he really was, and he intended to keep it that way.  
To know, to be a Van Horrin, was to have a target on your back. Keir couldn't do that to Eli. He was good and kind, and Keir was, not. Being a professional murderer and being good don't align.   
But, he kept a little good with him. One card in his plain, ordinary deck has gold foil around the edges.

**Author's Note:**

> Do people like to read D&D back stories for campaigns they aren't in??? I have no clue, but I loved writing this and wanted to share. I also don't know how poker works.


End file.
